Eat to Live
by DarkHorseTempest
Summary: Ginny's career in cooking is showing in a variety of ways. But even so, should she really accept an offer for a health farm job from a dragon aunt? Especially with the sinisters chills she felt. And who is that blond questioner who calls himself a writer?


Hello again! It's me again! I've finally decided to get back into writing, and it has taken a special book to re-inspire me after my original account was destroyed; _Shaping Up_ by Shirley Lowe and Angela Ince. Go to my profile page if you're unsure who I am, or at least was, and if you wish to know what happened you're free to write to me.

Eat to Live

Sunday Dinner

Molly Weasley stood in the door of her kitchen, a spot of flour on her anger-reddened nose and her hands on her hips.

"They've done it this time! I'll whack them until they're black and blue, I swear it to the Heavens!" She marched passed a bemused Ginny towards and out the back door, disregarding the cold and leaving Bill, Charlie and Ginny to wonder what their itinerant brothers had done this time. Bill turned back to his siblings.

"So as I was saying, I heard Mum say to Dad that the farm was in the news again. What does that mean? Do you think?" he finished, a slight frown in the middle of his forehead. Ginny's forehead produced a matching frown.

"What could it mean? Surely it's nothing important. After all, Mum and Dad never kept anything important from us before. Why would this be anything special?" _Who cares?_ she asked herself. _I am alone._

But Bill was shaking his head. "They sounded serious, Gin. I didn't stick around to listen, of course, I had to get to work. But there was something in her voice, I swear." Charlie interrupted.

"I don't think it's much to worry about, but I'll ask them about it, if you like." He sounded nonchalant. "Perhaps its nothing-" He was cut off by Molly's return to the room, brown eyes blazing and fists clenching.

"Why I even had them in the first place, I'll never know. Merlin knows they're never going to be worth the effort I put into trying to raise them properly-" it was Molly's time to be cut off by Ginny's quip.

"Yeah, but just think, Mum, you couldn't have had me if you'd stopped with Percy!" Charlie chuckled and Bill rumpled his sister's hair with a smile as Molly's eyes softened, gazing at her plump, pretty only daughter.

"Of course dear, you're right. Help me with these fruit pies, would you?" Ginny nodded and followed her mother into the kitchen, licking her lips in anticipation, her expectant expression mirrored by those on her two oldest brothers left behind in the kitchen. Thoughts of the famous Weasley Women's Pies, including visions of crisp blueberry tarts, blackberry and apple pies, Sussex Tartlets and peach pastries, all with generous dollops of thickened cream poured over the tops, were interrupted, however, by the appearance of two identical Weasleys in the doorway.

"Brr! It's freezing outside," one said, coming forward into the warm, fire lit room and shaking his hands briskly, while other shut the door behind them quickly, whispering,

"Has the storm inside died down yet?"

Charlie merely nodded. Bill asked the two twins with expectancy matching that of a few moments ago with thoughts of fruit pies,

"What did you two vagrants do this time?" The grins he got in return were as earnest and mischievous as ever and Charlie frowned once more, worriedly.

"I hope you didn't push her too far," he questioned evenly. Fred looked up, freckles beaming.

"We're working on something new," he began. Charlie rolled his eyes.

"Yes, we know. It's hardly an unusual thing," he said.

"Yeah, but this is special!" George exclaimed.

"We were thinking about how interesting it would be if we could change-"

"The colour of the world, you know…" George put in,

"The sky, the snow in winter…" Fred elaborated,

"The grass in summer, people's skin and hair in bulk…"

"The trees, houses, that sort of thing." Fred finished.

"But," George continued, "That's much too difficult, I mean-"

"That's been tried after heaps before, after all, and-"

"Never accomplished. So then we thought, was that really necessary anyway?"

"Couldn't we just work on the person, rather than the world?"

"A much easier task, when all's said and done, you understand."

Charlie and Bill, well used to this manner of speech, had been following the rapid explanation with interest. The twins paused, looked at each other and, with a mysterious smile turned back to face the two older brothers.

"So we've been devising a semi-portkey type of device," Fred started slowly.

"That doesn't transport the victim to another place," George continued, drawing out his words for suspense and glancing at his twin slyly.

"But instead gives them the _sensation_ of being portkeyed away, and when the disorientation fades,"

"The world hasn't changed, but their eyes have!" George concluded triumphantly. "They see the world as changed, but exactly the same in composition: leaving them without a clue as to where they are, and the people around them without a clue what's happened to them!" The twins laughed gleefully and slapped their palms together.

"Can I have a couple of those?" Ginny, wringing her hands dry with a tea towel, had slipped quietly into the room to hear the end of the twin's description. She had already heard her mother's muttered description of how the twins had "tested" the product on her just the week before, and how they were already trying it out on the neighbors. _So many people I'd love to do that to! Wouldn't it work well on Robert…_

The twins looked up thoughtfully, as if they knew what she was thinking.

"I don't know Gin," said Fred in an uncertain tone, nudging George, who winked at her. She grinned, knowing they'd not just give her one, they'd help her set him up. _He'll never know what hit him_, she thought, her grin disappearing and her grim mood returning to her with a vengeance. Flinging the tea towel down on the back of a chair, she entered the kitchen again to help her mother bring the dishes out for Sunday lunch.

Ron was inexplicably absent, but Harry had been invited and had accepted, as had Hermione, being as Molly had stated fondly, 'almost part of the family anyway'. Charlie jumped as there was a loud POP and then another POP to be heard from outside. A knock on the door came next and Charlie, ignoring the sniggers coming suspiciously from near the back door, went to open it to let the two half frozen visitors in.

Harry stood aside, hands cupped and breath showing, to let his best friend in, and in came one cold, red-nosed Hermione, rich bushy hair streaming out from under her little cream snow cap and down her back, stamping her feet first to rid her shoes of snow. She looked up finally as Harry repeated her actions behind her and beamed at the gathering in front of her.

"Hi everyone! It's so warm in here, I wish it wasn't so freezing outside. I'm sorry Ron can't come, he's-"

"Busy." Finished Harry firmly, shuffling forward into the warmth. Hermione glanced at him, momentarily surprised, but no one noticed but Ginny, who had been busy placing large plates of Devonshire pork pastries and a hatched house pie. She knew exactly what that little exchange had been; Ron was busy with Auror work, and they weren't supposed to speak about it. Not that it would do them any good. Ron always chatted to his family about his work when he visited any of them.

Mrs. Weasley bustled into the room and, upon realising the last two members of the lunch had arrived, she put her plates down next to Ginny's and went forward to hug the two of them. Ginny followed suit, thinking how good it was to see them again, finally. The hug she received from Hermione was particularly fierce, and as she pulled away she questioned her friend with her eyes. There was pain in the gaze of each of them, and Ginny nodded at Hermione, silently promising a talk after lunch before they left.

"Harry dear, I do swear you've grown again," Mrs. Weasley said warmly to Harry. He smiled.

"I don't think I'm still growing any more, Mrs. Weasley. Ron's still much taller than me," Harry replied. "Can I help with lunch?"

"Oh, it's all done, thank you. But you could help me carry everything out, if you like." As she passed the twins, now in front of the fire, she sniffed loudly, just to make her point of what fine sons _they_ were _not_ and should be. Fred rolled his eyes.

"Can we help too, Mum?" asked George, a glint in his eyes. Mrs. Weasley paused, slightly mollified, before shaking her head firmly.

"I can see that glint in your eyes, George Weasley, and I don't trust you two to help me without something going wrong somewhere, like the pies suddenly becoming green and the peas purple."

"Aw, Mum, that's where you're wrong. The one thing," George began complainingly,

"The one and only sacred thing," Fred added for emphasis,

"That we would never…"

"Ever…"

"Ever touch is your cooking, Mum," George ended. "I should think you'd remember that tiny detail!" Their mother sighed.

"All right, then come on," she huffed. Harry followed her, watching the twins with an expression mixing amusement and mistrust written all over his face. Fred pulled a face and shrugged at him, and the three men ambled into the kitchen.

"So," said Bill heartily, clapping his large hands together and making Hermione jump, "what's for dinner, Gin?"

"Well, there's Devonshire Pork Pastries with Worcestershire Sauce, a Thatched House Pie, a Beef and Orange Stew, Artichoke Stew," Ginny was ticking the list off on her fingers, "Rosy Beetroot Salad, Potato Croquettes, Marrow Stuffed with Mushrooms, Stuffed Peppers and Baked Stuffed Potatoes," she completed the list, not batting an eye.

"Merlin, Ron's not here today, do we really need all that food?" Harry asked, entering the room, a plate in each hand. Ginny flushed, and her hands fluttered near her waist. Hermione was about to upbraid Harry for his thoughtlessness when Fred followed him in and replied with blithe ease.

"Oh, George and I asked Gin to make extra food so we could take the leftovers home tonight,"

Harry put one dish down, then turned to face Fred confusedly.

"But…you guys live with Ginny," he said puzzled.

"We know," said George, carrying the last plate, covered with stuffed potatoes, and putting it down as close as possible to his seat. He considered the arrangement of the plates and, with considerable deliberation, shuffled a few forward and pulled the stuffed potatoes in front of his seat. "But we decided, seeing as Ginny's always cookin' an' stuff for us, we'd give her a chance to rest."

"'Specially 'cause she's working so hard on the new book," added Fred. Ginny smiled at them gratefully. However, her hands were still shaking near her round stomach. Suddenly, she felt she couldn't eat. For the rest of the meal, she picked listlessly at her food, poking it, squishing it, stabbing it. She only smiled at the twins, sitting opposite her and making leering faces at her food, pretending to steal it and attempting to cheer her up. Hermione noticed too, but she was at the guest end of the table near Mr. and Mrs. Weasley (Mr. Weasley having been drawn out from his study by the smell of the food) and unable to say anything to her.

After the meal Mrs. Weasley announced to the company at large, "I think that, seeing as Ginny helped me so much with the cooking, Fred and George should do the washing up." She set her lips firmly and stared at them, daring them to object. The two brothers looked at each other and nodded in unison, then winked at Ginny, who winked back.

"Alright, Mum." answered Fred.

"You must be terribly tired, from working so hard today," George sympathised.

"Why don't you take a break too?"

"We'll do everything, don't worry." The twins rose, and after another glance at Ginny they disappeared through the doorway, plates n hand. Mrs. Weasley watched them go, a suspicious expression now painted on her face.

Ginny's lips twisted wryly. They'd be in trouble again soon. She looked at Hermione, who returned the look, and the two girls also rose.

"We'll be upstairs, if anyone needs us," Ginny said. The girls walked up the stairs and into Ginny's old room. Sitting down on the bed and pulling her feet up under her, Hermione looked at Ginny.

"So what's been happening?" she asked carefully. Ginny shook her head.

"Oh no, you're definitely more in need than I am. What's wrong? Does it have to do with Mulehead?" Hermione hung her head.

"Oh Gin, he just hasn't got a clue. He doesn't like me and he never will. I've got to move on, but I can't!" Her lashes were damp when she lifted her head and Ginny sat beside her on the bed.

"I'm going to have a talk to him," she said severely. Hermione stared at her in horror.

"You can't do that!" she burst out. "He'd-I-no, that's not an option!"

"Hermione, don't be silly. He is my brother, after all. I have the right to pry into his affairs, as his sister. I won't mention you, or this talk, of course. Give me a little credit." But Hermione was shaking her head violently.

"Ginny, what could that possibly do? It's not going to help anything. Oh, he's such a nob sometimes!"

Ignoring the outburst, Ginny shrugged. "Well, the important thing here is to be sure. You need to know that he likes you, if he does, and then work from there. If he doesn't, well, you need to know that too so you can really move on. I'll find out for you," she concluded strongly.

Hermione shuddered and a single tear slid down her left cheek.

"I don't know why I'm being such a fool." She shuddered once more, violently, and then shook her head dolefully. "But this isn't important. What's wrong in your life at the moment?" Ginny pursed her lips angrily.

"I'm so fat!" she wailed, large tears appearing in the corners of her eyes. Hermione's mouth formed a large 'O'.

"Don't be silly! You're not fat, you're beautiful, Ginny," she cried, her own troubles forgotten for the time being. Ginny sniffed loudly.

"Yes I am. I went into the Lovely Large Witch the other day and the only robes they had that would fit me were the maternity clothes!" Hermione hugged Ginny impulsively.

"I don't believe you," she declared. "Come shopping with me later this week. I might be free on Wednesday afternoon, how about it?" Ginny simply stared at her friend for a moment, before her face crumpled.

"I'm-too-fat! sniff I can't go- sniff -into public like this! And anyway," she slumped even further, "that's the time that Robert uses to do his shopping…"

Hermione's brow cleared, though her eyes remained wet. She began to see what had happened, and tiny tendrils of anger curled themselves around her gut.

"So it's over with the Rovart, then. Ginny, that's a good thing. Yu should be happy, free!" she added. Ginny continued to sob. "Oh Gin," said Hermione worriedly. "Tell me what happened,"

Ginny made a controlled effort and finally managed to stop shaking, though the tears would take a little longer. She considered for a brief moment. Could she tell Hermione, closest friend or not, what had happened that terribly night?

Well, there you are folks. In the next chapter, we might hear the story of the break up between our adorable little Ginny and the Rovart, aka Robert Wells, and Ginny will get an unexpected letter that could change everything. For all disclaimers, see my profile page.

Tempest.


End file.
